A/N: This did a bit of a number on my heart. Please enjoy.
He showed her the first video because she wanted concrete proof that they used to be together. She didn't say those exact words, of course—she was much more polite in this new life—but the sentiment was there. They had their clothes on again, and she was sitting on the concrete floor, tying her boots, just feet from where they'd made love. He glanced at the space as he sat down beside her, not sure if he was feeling more exhilarated or ashamed. In all his fantasies, when she finally recognized him and wanted him again, it had never been like this: in some dark dingy basement, on top of discarded pieces of furniture. But she hadn't seemed to mind, not during and not now, after. He thought he'd make it up to her in a bed later if she let him—preferably her bed, somewhere where she was comfortable. He would do anything to make her comfortable.
So the video he picked out from the folder on his phone to show her was simple, easy. It was short, not more than a few minutes, and not anything overwhelming—just enough to get the point across: they had been together, and they had been happy together. When it was finished, she asked him to play it again, and remained just as fascinated the second (and then the third, and the fourth) time she re-watched it as she had the first time. It was silly, stupid: the two of them getting into an impromptu snowball fight when he'd actually been trying to film another one of her messages from past self to future self. He had never really thought much of it—there were much more personal and telling videos than this one on his phone—but watching her watch it, he found himself smiling along with her. It was surreal, seeing them through her changed eyes. But kind of wonderful, too.
We really shouldn't be filming these things while we're walking, he said off-camera, behind the phone, as the video started. Let's just wait until we get there. The view from his lens was a snow-covered walking path; there was only one set of footprints in front of him, and every once in a while, as the camera bobbed up and down with his steps, it caught sight of her boots a few steps ahead. They were knee-high and fur-lined.
It's only practice, she called over her shoulder. When she turned her head back to him, he lifted the camera, and caught sight of her long black hair falling over her shoulder and down onto her back. For a second when the camera steadied, one could see a constellation of snowflakes dotting the darkness of her hair. The entire world around them was white, and she with her dark hair and dark coat stuck out like something otherworldly.
Well, why am I recording it, then? he called back. If it's only practice, what's the point? You can practice without a camera. Give your speech to me. He laughed, adding, Hey, let's get me a wig, I can pretend to be the new you.
The woman up ahead shook her head, but it was clear from the way her shoulders were shaking that she was laughing. As if I'd ever be able to get my lines out with a straight face with you looking like that, she called back. The humor cleared from her voice a moment alter, as she added, We have to get in the habit of doing these more often. We need to start making the final copies soon, and they have to be perfect. She raised her voice to be heard over the wind as she picked her way across the snowy path, Now just give me a second to think, I'm almost read—
In a flash, she was no longer walking in front of him on the snowy path, but slipping and careering towards the ground, and the camera jerked as the man holding it burst out in laughter, bent over. There was a brief shot of his shoes—tall boots, snow-encrusted like hers—before her voice rang out indignantly from the ground a few feet away, and the camera rose again, and focused on her, now spread out on her back in the snow, scowling.
You are such a jerk, O! I just fell on my ass and all you can do is laug—Oh my god! Her voice rose an octave or two higher than Jane had ever heard herself speak. Are you still filming this?!
Yes, the man behind the camera laughed, approaching her slowly, more careful now that there might be ice beneath the snow. Say 'hi' for the camera, he teased, pushing it in her face, foregoing helping her up to savor the moment. Say, 'Hi, I'm a criminal mastermind and a trained soldier, but I can't walk through three inches of snow.' Say, 'Hi, I've perfected five different fighting styles, but I still can't master walking on my own two feet on solid ground.' Say—
He didn't get to voice his last taunt, for the camera was suddenly covered in snow, and then he was yelling, and then the screen filled and swirled with the blue sky above as the two of them scuffled off-camera with snow and sleet.
She emerged victorious at the end, grabbing the phone and brushing it off, and then aiming the camera back down at him, now lying in the snow beneath her, with her boot on his chest.
Say, 'Hi, my name's Oscar, and I may have once been a big bad Marine, but now I routinely get laid out on my back by girls.'
He grinned up at her from the ground. Oh, you bet I do, baby.
There was another scuffle, a few curses, and then he got a fistful of snow in the face.
Always such a little punk, she muttered off-camera, but it was clear from the snicker in her voice that she was smiling.
A moment later the camera flew through the air, and she could be heard crunching away through the snow. Oscar grabbed at it, and got to his feet, following after her with one hand on the phone and brushing the snow and dirt off him with the other.
Hurry up, she called from the edge of the road, waiting by the car parked there. We can film the rest on the way—just delete that one, would you?
Yeah, sure, he called back. Then the view of the camera switched, and his face appeared above and filled the screen. In the last second before the video cut off, he shook his head with a grin and a quick, Not a chance.
They watched the video again and again, Jane always hitting the replay button, until Oscar had finally had enough of hearing his own voice. (He never got sick of hearing hers.) "You can watch other videos, you know," he told her. He tapped the screen, leaving the viewing window so he could take her back to the folder of videos. He waved a hand at all the choices. "Take your pick."
She raised her eyebrows, glancing over at him. "You're trusting me to look through this phone by myself?" Given the first video he'd shown her, the message revealing her culpability in this whole mission, Jane expected he'd be more secret with his phone, more adamant about drawing certain lines. She looked over at him and wondered if the sex had relaxed him that much that he was loose with his boundaries now, or if it was something else. Maybe they were both starting to really trust one another again.
He shrugged under her curious gaze. "It's basically yours. There's nothing on there that you aren't meant to see, or didn't make yourself, back then, for your new self."
Jane nodded, scrolling through the videos for a few seconds in silence. There were so many of them—it looked like hundreds—and she was tempted to ask him how he managed to store on this on such a tiny, simple phone. But there were other mysteries she cared more about.
Finally, she finished browsing and picked the video in the top right corner of the screen. The little thumbnail picture seemed to be Oscar's face, and she was intrigued by it. Most of the freeze-frames she'd seen so far were of her face, or blurry colors caught mid-frame. But this one was still and clear and most definitely him. She tapped play, and let the video run. She did not notice the way Oscar's breath caught beside her, or how his whole body went still. How his mouth opened to say Don't, but the word never came out.
For a few seconds the video was silent, and all that could be heard from the phone were the sounds of soft breathing. The lighting was dim, but the picture was bright enough that Jane could make out his face clearly. He was horizontal, his head propped up on a pillow, and it took her a second to realize why he looked off, why his face was so large on the video—they were lying in bed. She must not have been more than a couple inches from him when she took the video. Instinctually, Jane glanced over at Oscar beside her, wondering if this was too personal, but he didn't look anxious. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice she was looking at him. He was staring at the little screen in her hands as if it were the only thing in the world.
After a moment, Jane, too, turned back to the video. Quiet reigned for a just a second more before the old her spoke.
Tell me something good, she requested of him.
Something good? The Oscar in the video yawned, and rubbed a hand over the side of his face tiredly. Well, I don't have to get up early for training tomorrow, that's good. Which means I won't have to resent you for keeping me up late, so doubly good. The her taking the video laughed softly at that, and he closed his eyes sleepily, drawing in a slow breath. Paul said he finished the modifications on the van today, that's another good thing; it'll make the drop easier for you.
There was a rustle from behind the camera as it moved a bit. It took Jane a second to realize what was happening—the old her was shaking her head.
Something that isn't work, she requested. Tell me something good that isn't about work.
Hm… Oscar thought for a moment, pressing his face into his pillow. She stayed quiet, and kept the camera trained on him as he thought. After a couple seconds, a smile flashed on his face, involuntary. He rolled his lips together, making it disappear, but hints remained at the edges.
What was that? she wondered, pouncing on his happiness and scooting a little bit closer, so that his face took up even more than the entire screen now. What were you thinking just then?
He shook his head, opening his eyes and blinking in the dim light of the room. He was quiet for a moment, staring at her. You really want to know? he said finally.
The rustle behind the camera this time Jane took to be a nod.
I was thinking that I'm going to marry you, he said. That uncontrollable smile sprouted on his face again, made all the more lovely by the weariness etched into his features. He looked lazy in his happiness and it was beautiful, and so different from anything Jane had seen from him yet, in her current life or in her memories.
And that's a good thing, is it? the old her asked, teasing, her voice bursting with happiness, too, from behind the camera. Jane didn't need to see her own face to know she was smiling.
Oh, it's a very good thing. One side of Oscar's mouth, the part not buried against the pillow, turned up high. There was more rustling off-camera. Would you like me to show you just how good a thing it is?
Well, it's been a few hours… And I can always use a refresher.
He bent forward then, kissing her, and for a minute or two, the screen went fuzzy and dark, focusing in too far on the skin of his shoulder as he kissed her, and held her close. Eventually when he pulled back, he tried grabbing at the phone, muttering, Get rid of this, we have better things we can be doing.
She laughed softly, but kept the phone in her hand. She held it out to the side, focusing the camera on their faces as they kissed once, twice. When he tried to grab for it again and knocked it out of her hand, she finally surrendered.
Okay, okay, I'll put it away. What a prude, jeez.
There was another rustle as she leaned over the side of the bed, and then a thunkas the phone was dropped onto the bedside table. Jane watched, with more than a little disappointment, as blackness took up the screen. She knew the video would end in a second, once the old her pressed the stop button on the recording, and she thought it so unfair. All she got was a glimpse of the past, a moment of them together, and now it was gone, so quick, just like every other glimpse she'd gotten thus far. She sighed, about to adjust her hold on the phone to go back to the album, when she heard a rustle from the video, and then the unmistakable sound of two people kissing. She stared at the dark screen, her eyes going wide, not sure if she was imagining this, or—
You turned the camera off? His voice broke through the kissing on the video, but the light rustling did not stop.
Mm-hm, the old her whispered from behind the screen. Sure did. C'mere, O.
Jane sat and watched the screen—watched nothing but blackness—as her head buzzed and filled with the sounds that, thanks to what had happened between her and Oscar an hour ago, had become familiar. She listened to his whispers, his soft groans, his sharp intakes of breath. She listened to the sound of her own sighs, her own moans, her own voice whispering his name.
She listened to herself profess her love for the man in her arms in the video, the man sitting next to her now, and she listened to herself profess other things, too, things that would be considered vulgar and dirty if they had not been said so lovingly, so earnestly. Don't ever take your hands off me and You feel so good inside me and Oh, God, don't ever stop. She felt her face heat and her heart race as she listened to her own voice say things she had never said aloud, at least not in this life, and yet she did not stop listening to them. She didn't turn off the video. Once or twice, she even turned up the volume, better to hear the words they whispered to each other, the tender I love yous and the fiercer commands of More and Faster and Stay with me.
It was quiet for a long time in that basement after the video finally ended. Jane let the phone go to sleep, let its screen go fully black and silent, and waited. She wasn't sure what to say—and even less sure of what he would say. She did not look at him, but she could feel him next to her, a heavy presence beside her as he had been on top of her just a short time ago.
She closed her eyes, remembering how it had felt, kissing him, touching him, being touched by him. She swallowed, and held the phone tight in her hands. She did not trust herself with empty hands, did not trust herself not to reach for him, and re-enact that video they'd just watched word for word, kiss for kiss.
"I never knew you did that, you know," Oscar said finally, breaking the silence as gently and un-awkwardly as possible. "I never knew you let the video run like that while we were…" At her side, he shook his head, and made a soft noise of disbelief. "I used to never put things past you, but I guess I got lazy, after you said yes to the ring. I never imagined you'd…" He let out a breath. "I never even thought to look at it until after you'd left."
Jane nodded, remembering the last thing that was said on the video, before it cut off. Her soft voice whispering into the phone, so quiet because he must've already been asleep, I love you, O. No matter what happens, don't forget what that feels like.
"I didn't tell you about the video on purpose," Jane deduced, opening her eyes. She looked down at the phone in her hand. "I left it there for you to find later, after I'd gone, on purpose."
Oscar nodded at her side. "Yeah, I know you did, Jane."
She glanced over at him, wanting to ask if it was a blessing or a curse to him, this strange gift she'd given him. This memory, this love, immortalized in nothing more than sound and darkness. How many times had he played it for himself, after she'd gone? How many times had he had to shut it off in the middle, unable to listen anymore?
"Do you miss me still?" she asked into the silence. "The person I used to be?"
Oscar opened his mouth to reply at once, but nothing ended up coming out. They both waited a minute, and then more, but he ended up just shaking his head, speechless. Jane reached a hand over and laid it on his, twining their fingers together. He held onto her hand tight, grateful for the touch, the support.
"It's… different," he said finally, having found his voice. "You and who you used to be, it's not really a comparison. You're different, but…" He shrugged, squeezing her hand. "You're still the same. You still look the same, talk the same, think the same. You have different memories now, but you're wired the same as ever, I can see that. You still have your instincts, your selflessness, your determination. You still have all the things I fell in love with. You're still you." He offered her a weak smile. "You just don't remember me as much, is all."
She gripped his hand hard with hers. "I remember this," she answered. "I remember us, I remember being together."
He smiled a little. "That's much more than I used to let myself hope for."
"What do you hope for now?"
She knew it was a dangerous question, but she couldn't help herself; she was curious. Just like before, when she'd told him she didn't know what it was that he wanted, she had an inkling of the answer. But she wanted him to give it to her. She wanted someone else to recognize this truth between them out loud.
"I hope that things stay like this," he answered finally, holding onto her hand. "No matter how stupid or naive it makes me, I just want some time for us to catch up with one another. I know we can't go back to before, but I'd like… I'd like it if we tried to go forward and make something of this. However…" He blew out a breath, looking down at his shoes. "However doomed that may be, I'd at least like to know I tried this time, and didn't just let you go again without a word."
Jane nodded at his side, covering their joined hands with her free hand. She knew what he meant, where he was coming from: There would be no easy end to this, no something good at the close of the day.
But why not try? she thought, liking the feel of his other hand when he placed it atop both of theirs. Why not be naive for a moment? Surely they both deserved that brief luxury, no matter what it cost.
A/N: Thanks for reading! This one came totally out of the blue to me, too (I'm imagining it was out of left field for you all as well), and if you have time, I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)
